


Collaboration

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2011 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, M/M, Musicians, Rock and Roll, Summer Pornathon, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a rock star, Merlin is a session-guitarist. (Written for the Merlin Summer Pornathon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collaboration

Arthur plugs himself in with bad grace, and glares. 'Just so you know, I don't normally do this -'

'Oh, I know,' says the session guitarist, doing likewise and pluck-plunking at low E. 'I heard your last album. Thank God you decided to change things up a bit.'

'- and if my manager hadn't ordered me to, I wouldn't be doing it now,' Arthur finishes. He scowls. 'If you fuck with my melodies, I don't care what Kilgarrah says, you're fired.'

The session guitarist runs a hand over the contours on his Jag, and smiles. 'Babe, I'm Merlin Emrys. I've played with everyone you can think of, and they all trusted me. If I fuck with your melodies, it's because they need …' he pauses, sliding his eyes over Arthur's blonde Strat and way too slowly over Arthur's body behind it, '... a good fucking with.'

Arthur scowls.

***

Kilgarrah told Arthur that Merlin would complement him as a guitarist. 'You shouldn't play both guitar lines,' he said. 'You need balance. You need a partner.' Arthur's insistence on hiring temporary bands when he tours and multitracking everything himself in the studio is a long-standing bone of contention between him and the producers. 'Merlin Emrys will give you that.'

Arthur doesn't think Merlin is giving him balance. Merlin is ripping every fucking track to shreds before he's happy, and Arthur is half-resentful and half-lustful at the way the man does it - every hammer-on is like the touch of a fingertip, every half-step Merlin bends is a lick to Arthur's increasingly hot-salty skin.

Closing his eyes doesn't help, because he can still hear Merlin through his headphones, and Arthur's heard his fair share of dirty talk in his time, but nothing like the filthy, pleading whine of Merlin's single-coils.

***

The last track of the new album is supposed to be a slow-burn, and Arthur's already got the basics of it, a riff in his head he can't get rid of, so one morning he gets in early, plugs into his favourite amp (the Triple Rectifier, the one he'd take home if he could fit it and the cabs under his shirt), and gets it down. Plenty of fuzz and a careful foot on the Cry-Baby to draw things out, and by the time Merlin rolls in, (still early – the engineer won't be here for an hour) Arthur's happy. It's got a roll to it, a back-and-forth.

He wonders what Merlin will make of it, how he will tear it apart.

But as soon as Merlin's headphones go on, his foot starts tapping. Arthur can't concentrate, wants that foot beating sex-rhythm-time on his ribs, and he wants Merlin's bottom lip wet under his tongue, and Merlin knows, Merlin wants too - eye-fucks Arthur like a champ, nodding to the beat.

God, Arthur wants him bad. Wants to fuck him, wants to listen to him cry out - wants to _play_ him. But Merlin's got the beat in him, and as much as Arthur wants Merlin's touch on his skin, he realises he wants it more on his song.

'I want –' Merlin says, dropping the headphones to the desk. 'I want to fuck with that,' he moans. 'Christ. I want to fuck with _you_. But that first. Please, Arthur, you know how far I can take it.'

'Do it,' Arthur whispers, and Merlin can't get into the live room fast enough.

Arthur presses one of the elements of the headphones to his ear to hear the seduction Merlin's laying down, and it is seduction, it's a high, treble-laden siren-song and it winds its way down Arthur's spine and flexes his hips for him, and only the knowledge that it'll ruin the sound keeps him from pushing his way into that room and kissing his way into Merlin's body.

He can see how he would do it. He can see it in his head laid out like tab, and Merlin brings his guitar to a shuddering, moaning halt, and it's the hardest thing Arthur has ever had to do to wait out the sustain before powering down the recording gear and getting in there. Merlin's on him fast – slams Arthur up against the soundproofing and climbs him like a tree. 'Gonna take you,' Merlin mutters into Arthur's mouth. 'Gonna take you in, hold you down, ride you like a high note til you sing, baby –'

It's the idea of the feel of him - raw and immediate - that makes Arthur remember that they can't just plug in and go where the melody takes them.

'I don't have –' Arthur pants, not even bothering to try and pat his pockets, and Merlin's smile is fast-hot-wicked, and he grinds up harder, rolling along Arthur's overheated body.

'Don't care,' he says, licking his lips. 'Don't you want me? Don't you wanna rock me bare?' And fuck if Arthur can say no to that.

He slides Merlin to the floor and gets his jeans and pants off, yanks his arse up and spreads, licks, tastes, touches, pushes in fingers so rough from strings that all he can feel is the heat, not the slick, the yield of Merlin's flesh, and Merlin's voice breaks - 'fuck _please_ ' - twenty-first-fret high. He twists and throws Arthur to the floor, drags the clothes off him the same way he's dragged every unnecessary bit of frippery out of Arthur's songs. 'Need you _now_ , Arthur, get in me -' and he's up on the upbeat, then down on the down, and Arthur's with him, on him, _in_ him like the music's in them both.

Merlin rides like the Devil's taken him, and it doesn't take long til his come is painting Arthur's shirt, flecking his mouth, til Arthur follows his lead, and loses his load, panting and arching on the hardwood floor of the live-room.

'Oh, baby,' Merlin murmurs into Arthur's neck in counterpoint to the offbeat of his heart. 'We are gonna make such beautiful music together.'


End file.
